Bloody Mary
by twostrandsofmelody
Summary: Set in 1832, Lord Harry sets his sight on a young seamstress. A snapshot into just of the many kills of Lord Harry.


Mary fumbled for the key she kept around her neck, the all-important key for the Haberdashery she worked for. If she lost that key, it was her job. It was well past closing and she'd taken the extra hour to fix up the pants that a gentleman had brought in earlier that day that had gotten a tear along the seam. Her boss had already left for the day, leaving her to lock up shop.

It was a dark night out, the gaslights that lined the streets giving an eerie sickening yellow tinge to everything along the cobblestone road. She despised being the last one out of the shop.

"Excuse me-"

"Yes?" She wheeled around, concealing the key between her breasts, the chain the only sign that something hung there.

"The pocket of my coat has torn."

"The liner or the actual pocket?" Mary questioned, eyeing the man cautiously.

"I believe it's the liner that's torn. You see, I've lost my pocket watch I kept in it."

"I'm sorry." It was a shame to lose something as expensive as a pocket watch. "But, our shop is closed for the evening. If you could come back tomorrow."

"I'll be leaving town in the morning for a trip to Bath, it's just a quick repair."

Mary let out a deep, frustrated, breath. "Get in here before someone sees me letting a man into the shop at night."

"I don't mean to cause any trouble-"

"It's fine. I'm sure it won't' take but a few moments to mend it." Mary moved to light the gas lamp beside her work table. "Here give me your coat."

"I'm Henry, by the way." He shed his coat, passing it to the seamstress.

"I'm Mary." She gave the young man a sweet smile, eyeing him as she set down to examine his coat. "It's not as bad as it could be. It's a tear in the liner, just big enough for a watch to slip through with a little movement.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mary." Henry leaned over the table and watched her work.

"You're blocking my light." Mary commented, looking up at him. He wasn't a bad looking man. He was actually quite handsome. Well groomed dark hair, dark eyes, full lips that curved up when he smiled at her.

"My apologies." He was polite as well. He wasn't rude and degrading like most of the men who walked through the door. "Do you like working here?"

"Not particularly." Mary replied truthfully. "I want to see something else out there in the world. I want to get out of London."

"You've never been outside of London?"

"I was born in a workhouse, sold to Mister Litestitch when I was nine, and worked here ever since." Mary sighed, glancing up at Henry. "It's a life I suppose. But I long to see somewhere else."

"Perhaps you can find yourself a catch of a man and he can take you out of London."

"Because I have a long line of suitors waiting for me. Did you see that line out on the street?" Mary retorted.

Henry turned and looked at the window, "I didn't see another soul out there."

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry, you seem like a nice girl."

"That's all I am." Mary looked up at him. "I'm the girl in the Haberdashery, the nice girl who mends clothes for a living."

"You're also rather beautiful."

Mary ripped the old thread out of the pocket liner, reaching for thread. "You flatter me." The thread spindle rolled off the table and she reached beneath the table to reach it. "Damn!" She hissed, sitting back up and nursing her finger between her lips.

Henry's eyes darkened in the low light, focusing in on the finger between her two lush lips. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him, pulling her finger out of her mouth and leaving a trail of blood along her pink lips. "I stuck my finger."

Henry tried to control the waves of lust and bloodlust that coursed through him but he had never been one for control. He pounced, knocking Mary and the chair she sat in over. His lips pressed against hers, sucking the blood from her lip. His teeth scraped her tender lips, leaving fresh blood in their wake.

She struggled, fighting against Henry. His strength was surreal. With one hand he pinned her hands above her head, a knee between her legs pinned her dress to the ground enabling her from kicking.

"Give in." He hissed, fangs bared. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He licked his bloodstained lips, surprised to see the petite woman silently staring up at him. Her bosom heaved with each deep breath, her bloodied lips parted. There was no fun in a willing victim. He hissed at her again, hands pushing her skirts up.

Poor bloody Mary wished to see the world. Tonight she'd see one world, the world of Hal. The dark and bloodied world that he lived in. She'd feel more than she'd ever felt in her life tonight and then _never_ feel again.


End file.
